Stalingrad
by arguably
Summary: A young Italian officer and a German Captain of Artillery form an unlikely bond in the midst of carnage in the Battle of Stalingrad.


**Title:** Stalingrad

**Rating:** T

**Genre:** Action/Adventure

**Story Background:** AU original story based on some history. It is the late summer of 1941, and the German 6th Army is poised to completely conquer the city of Stalingrad. An Italian artillery officer is assigend to become a liaison between the Germans and the Italians as they coordinate their attacks. A battle for survival ensues and an unusual friendship between two men is formed in the midst of war.

**Length:** Unknown

**Disclaimer:** The characters portrayed in this story, in their original format, are copyright properties of Hidekazu Himaruya and Gentosha publishing. No profit is being made for their use in this original story.

**Character Names:**Italy = Feliciano "Felix" Vargas; Germany: Ludwig Beilschmidt

**WARNING:**Some gory details might appear from time to time.

**A/N:**I've only ever seen a few episodes of the show, and already I'm hitched to it. I'm also a fan of WW2 history, but I'm afraid I may not be as well-researched as many others here probably are. This story is an attempt on my part to create a possible scenario based on actual historical facts. Some details, however, might seem out of place and do not follow certain conventions. These details have been taken with full awareness by the writer as part of the plot (although I am more than happy to take notes of corrections from anyone here, giving all due credit where credit is due). This is in no way a history lesson, but a portrayal of history as the writer wishes to see it.

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><p><strong>August 22, 1942; Kharkov, Russia<strong>

The sultry summer heat of the Russian landscape engulfed everything in its path, as August neared its end. Lieutenant Feliciano "Felix" Vargas, sat quietly in a corner at German Army Headquarters, Kharkov, as he waited to be summoned by a certain General Feldstein.

Around him, staff members of the OKW were in a flutter of activity; official orders from General Staff; handing out paperwork as the communications room relayed them important messages across the entire front. He'd been in Russia for over four days now, and this was his first day in Kharkov, and already the Germans seemed to display their lightning fast efficiency without much thought.

Even as a soldier in the midst of other soldiers, the young Italian army officer seemed oddly out of place, and he knew it. As he looked around the room, he noticed that despite the energetic anxiety of what was happening around him; it seemed to be a routine, exercised to perfection that it bordered on the ridiculous. The thought of the stiff necks and the stretched backs of these German staff officers gave him little comfort, as they filed away their papers like rigid automatons.

He looked at the clock above an imposing portrait of the Fuhrer. It was almost 14:30. He'd been sitting there for roughly an hour. This assignment bothered him, not only because _he was the only Italian in the room_, but because he _was still in Russia_, of all places. He had preferred to be assigned somewhere close to the Italian coast as an artillery officer. But the Italian Army High Command seemed to have "bigger" plans for him. It wasn't until a year ago that he was reassigned to the "_Corpo di Spedizione Italiano in Russia",_then six months later to be assigned as a representative to the German Army.

He didn't know why, and for what. Perhaps his superior officers needed another background check on the German advance? He was, after all, tasked with filing detailed reports, and whether or not the Germans liked it, he had intended to be truthful.

"Herr Vargas," came a monotonous voice from the reception table. "The general will see you now," he said as he raised his arm to point to a corridor with several doors on each sides.

Felix put on his cap, which had sat on his lap for quite some time, and picked up his small suitcase. He gave a curt nod to the receptionist and marched on towards a small corridor.

The corridor was poorly lit, but was emblazoned with several propaganda posters on both first few doors were ajar as he walked past them, but the labeling on them that said "EINTRIT VERBOTTEN" made it clear to him that he had no business peering through them. As he reached the last door on the right side, a sentry was there to greet him.

"Your papers please," said the black uniformed soldier. Felix found it hard to not notice the blazing red of the swastika on the man's arm. _He must be with the GESTAPO,_thought Felix_._He took his passport from his left breast pocket, and the man quietly observed it for a moment or two.

"Come in, sir. The general is ready for you," said the man politely as he opened the door for Felix.

"Thank you."

As Felix entered the room, he immediately noticed maps. Maps of different kinds; They were all drawn up on the walls, with one massive map which had scribbled words and lines on it. Red lines indicated the movement of the armies, in particular along a wide river labeled, "VOLGA". The general stood in front of the maps, with his monocle held closely to his eye.

As Felix shut the door behind him and caught the general's attention. He gave a salute.

"Ah yes, Herr… uhm, Vargas is it?" he said with a kind smile as he saluted the young man in return. He reached for young Italian's hand to shake it. Felix nodded in return, "yes, sir".

"Ah! You speak perfect German. Good… Good… Please sit," said the general. "I was just looking over these maps that Manstein sent in just this morning. Took me a bit longer than expected to understand the bloody things!"

"Yes sir."

"Oh, dear! Where are my manners? Would you like some tea? Coffee? Spot of brandy perhaps?"

"No thank you, sir. I'm on duty," said Felix.

"Ah very well, I'll just help myself on to some then." The general poured some brandy on an exquisite looking glass and took a sip.

The man looked to be in his late fifties. He was balding, but it suit him well. His eyes were jovial, like that of a jolly grandfather on holiday with his grandchildren. Unlike the staff members outside, his uniform did not bid well with him as his bulging gut seemed to almost want to pop off the gold buttons. He had a calming effect on Felix, but he knew all too well that the Germans loved pomp and ceremonies, and it would only serve him a tongue lashing if he forgot his place.

"Yes now… ahem. What can I do for you, herr leutnant?" inquired the old man.

"Well, sir" said Felix as he quickly began to rummage through his suitcase for his assignment order. He quickly handed it to the general who began to read it in earnest.

"I've been requested to be assigned here on orders by General Badoglio as part of a contingency plan to make coordination between the German Army and the CSIR more fluid as the advance continues. The request was approved by Reichsmarschall Goering and Feldmarschall Keitel."

The words sprang forth with more fluidity to it than Felix intended. He hoped that the old man would not take it as an affront.

The general skimmed through the papers, all marked with clearances from several bureaucracies within the Reich. He nodded curtly at Felix, and didn't seem to mind anything beyond what he was reading.

"Yes," coughed the general, "I see. Very well. I think everything is in order. In fact I've already received instructions as to how to let you proceed with your assignment.

"Now, I have a man here; a Captain with the 6th Army under general-feldmarschall Paulus," he continued, now with a level of formality. "You will serve as a liaison to him all throughout this adventure of yours. You will accompany him and make separate reports to my office, as well as to your superiors. Understood?"

"Yes sir."

"Alright then. I'll be frank with you," said the general, lowering his voice. "This whole idea… whose was it? What are you _really_trying to do here?"

"Forgive me sir? I…" said a confused Felix.

"The Italians sending one of their men here for a missionary?" huffed the old man. "I find that a highly likely story. I seriously doubt why they would do such a thing.

"You Italians," he continued shaking his head. Felix was surprised at this sudden change of mood. He didn't know what to make of it. "Not enough that we've already committed a significant amount of our forces on that silly expedition of yours with Rommel! What are you on to?"

"General, I'm here solely as a representative of the CSIR. Nothing more."

The man gave him a look, as if he can see through Felix. Felix could not have felt more stripped down, but he kept his poker face. He honestly hadn't the slightest idea what the old man was getting on about.

Finally, the general decided that perhaps the poor boy hadn't the clue as to why he was there. He took his pen that was perched on an exquisite penholder and dipped it on a small vial of ink. The gold nib touched down on the creamy paper and was quickly signed with a flourish.

"Here, your final clearance."

Felix sighed with relief as he felt the end of this awkward conversation. As he was about to receive the piece of paper, a hard knock on the door came.

"Herr general, Hauptmann Beilschmidt ist hier," came the sentry's voice as he opened the door.

"Ah yes! Captain Beilschidt!" exclaimed the general, as a rather tall man marched in and saluted them.

"Captain Beilschmidt, reporting as ordered, sir," said the man with a forceful voice, clicking his boots as he did so. Felix stood up and looked at him with a bemused glance. The man was tall and well built. His gray uniform, perfectly powdered and starched, was handsome on him. An iron cross was tied proudly around his collar. His cerulean eyes darted forward with heavy concentration.

"Yes, yes, at ease soldier," waved the general down. "Captain, this is Leutant Feliciano Vargas from the CSIR. He will accompany you on your duty to Stalingrad."

Beilschmidt met Felix's eyes and gave him a nod.

"He will serve as your adjutant and liaison officer between the German 6th Army and the Italian 8th Army. Leutnant, meet Hauptmann Beilschmidt."

Felix stood up to shake the man's hand. He found the man's grip to be a bit too forceful.

"So, let us be done with this business. You both have twenty four hours left of rest; I suggest you begin to acquaint yourselves with each other throughout that time. Understood?"

"Yes sir!" saluted the two at once.

"Dismissed!"

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><p>Whew! First chapter done. Rather short but still…<p>

Anyway, I'm studying up on WWII history on the Eastern Front right now. The relationship dynamics are in my head right now, but I'm still struggling how to make it work in such an environment. And although this is fiction, much like any other writer, I do wish to maintain a level of authenticity to the story. Please bear with me and take note if there are details that may be out of place, and I will definitely correct them at your pleasure. Thank you for reading, and please, don't forget to review!


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